


Endless Road

by Who Shot AR (akerwis)



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Marriage, Minor Character(s), POV Third Person, Past Tense, Pre-Canon, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akerwis/pseuds/Who%20Shot%20AR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Being a Mortmaigne was all about duty, honor, and sacrifice.</i>  And Scarlett Mortmaigne will never escape her family's influence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endless Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScratchyWilson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScratchyWilson/gifts).



> _Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread,_  
>  _Look not left nor right:_  
>  _In all the endless road you tread_  
>  _There's nothing but the night._  
>  -A. E. Housman

Being a Mortmaigne was all about duty, honor, and sacrifice.  Even if no one ever sat her down and spelled it out to her, Scarlett knew its truth by the time she was ten years old: whatever happened, no matter what befell individual members of the family, the Mortmaigne name and lineage must continue unscathed.  It was why Mummy always asked how things would _look_ when Scarlett suggested something she didn’t like, or why sometimes the other children at Crevecoeur got to do things she didn’t.  Mortmaignes lived according to a different set of rules.

That was why she informed James after their pretend wedding that he must remember that it was only pretend and that she would never _truly_ marry him.  It was clear that he had never considered what it meant to be a Mortmaigne, because he fixed her with a puzzled expression.  “Why not?”

“Because.”  Scarlett leaned her back against one of the thin-trunked trees at the edge of the forest, taking no care to keep from getting dirty.  “Your father is Daddy’s manager.  I couldn’t marry you.”

“Oh.”  James was silent, his long face a crumpled frown, and Scarlett wondered if he’d thought—if he’d really thought!—this was practice for the real thing.  He was the nicest boy on the estate, and he never told her she couldn’t tag along with him, despite being a girl and a year younger than him.  “But perhaps—when we’re older—“

Scarlett shook her head; when she was older, she would look after the estate like Daddy did, or perhaps marry someone nice and let _him_ do the hard bits.  Keeping track of Crevecoeur required maths, as far as she could tell, and Scarlett hated maths.  Perhaps when they were older, James could be _her_ estate manager, and they’d be able to plan out parties and things together.  But she knew with certainty, like a heavy stone dropped into the pond, that she would never be his wife.

“We’re supposed to be on our honeymoon,” she reminded him, reaching up to take one of his hands.  He let her pull him down to the grass next to her and didn’t complain about going back to playing pretend.  “Where shall we go?”

James picked silently at the blades of grass, staring down very hard at the ground, his mouth a tight line.

With a sigh, Scarlett tried to think of somewhere James would like to go.  He clearly wasn’t going to help imagine their holiday.  “Let’s go to Italy,” she offered, even though she would have rather picked the French Riviera.  Mummy and Daddy went there on holiday without her last spring, and she wanted to see what was so interesting about it.  “We can see where the Pope lives.”

“The Vatican.”  James’ voice was a quiet breath, and it shook a little, but he looked at her then, and Scarlett knew he’d play along.

❦

Fabio was a tempting devil of a man: playful, romantic, and tender, with a penchant for espresso and grappa (but not in the same cup).  They met in Venice, but he was a Londoner—drinking away his holiday, he told her cheerfully—and Scarlett was instantly charmed by the way he walked through the streets as though he owned them. 

“It’s my gap year,” Scarlett told him over her second Bellini of the night, smiling around the glass as she took a sip.  “Then I’m off to _Oxford_ for uni.”

He laughed at the way she rolled her eyes dramatically, and after a moment, Scarlett joined him.  “And then what?”

“Get married.  Live the oh-so-exciting life of the idle rich.”  Scarlett reached over for the cigarette he’d set down and took a drag.  “Perhaps I’ll write naughty romances for Mills & Boon.”

Fabio swilled his glass of grappa.  His smile was brilliant, dimples in both cheeks and dark eyes that sparkled behind an untamable mop of curls. 

Scarlett loved the way he looked only at her. 

❦

Daddy wasn’t pleased.  The silence on his end of the line changed the moment she said it: _I’ve gotten married, Daddy.  He’s really lovely, you and Selina will like him, we can have a proper ceremony at home—_ Her voice faltered as she pictured the lines in her father’s face growing more and more severe.  “Daddy?”

“I’m coming out there.”  And Scarlett knew that tone, though she rarely heard it directed at her.  It meant there was to be no argument but quite a lot of punishment if she didn’t tread lightly.

“Daddy, he’s very nice—“

“I will have no arguments, Scarlett.”  Not over the telephone, anyway.  Daddy’s voice couldn’t thunder at her all the way from England; traveling over land and sea to Italy made it come out thin and reedy.  “I am buying a ticket, and we will annul this marriage before you make a mistake I cannot remedy.”

“But— _Daddy_ , please—“ 

“No arguments.”

“Well, it can’t be annulled.”  She felt a warm pang in her chest, satisfaction at the fact that she held that much over her father, at least.  Daddy couldn’t turn back time.  “We’ve already consummated it.”

The sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line was just what she’d hoped to hear.  She could wear it as a badge of honor, proof that she’d successfully outsmarted the man who sought to tell her _no_.  “I will be there tomorrow.”

And that was that, though she didn’t know it then.  Then, she went back to Fabio with a laughing smile and slid her fingertips down his front, determined to consummate this marriage so thoroughly that Daddy couldn’t do a thing about it.

But of course, he could.  He held Oxford just out of reach, along with all her clothes and holidays and Michelin-starred restaurants.  He dangled them before her and dared her to choose a man she’d only known a few weeks instead.  And her pride was no match for the spectre of poverty.

One night, after she’d come home to be the penitent daughter quietly getting her degree in English literature, he’d given her a smile unlike any she’d seen on him before.  It was—the only word she could think of was _predatory_ , but of course, this was _Daddy_ —and inwardly, she shuddered.  Predatory and hard and a little bit mocking, everything she’d seen only as a bystander before now.

“Your stepmother and I did you a favor, Scarlett.”  He was seated in one of his velvet-upholstered chairs, looking over the paper.  “Someday, you’re going to have to do a favor for us.”

Some part of her understood, even if she didn’t know what it was he expected of her.  She was a Mortmaigne born and bred, and her interests were the family’s interests.  They had to be, if she was to remain her father’s daughter.

**Author's Note:**

> This treat was inspired by the following in your prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _I did request any character, but I'll admit I needed to google Scarlett Mortmaigne to remember who exactly she was, so I've got pretty ambivalent feelings about her and can't really think of anything specific to do with her character. But if you love her, and/or love her with Hathaway, feel free to seduce me to sail the ship and join the fanclub._
> 
>  
> 
> I don't know if I can seduce you to liking her, but I thought I would take the opportunity to try. I find Scarlett deeply sympathetic; if you'll forgive an A Song of Ice and Fire comparison, she seems like a Tully living in a house of Lannisters. (Alternatively, if you prefer Downton Abbey, I could see Lady Mary growing up quite similarly to Scarlett if she'd been born in modern times.) She does some bad things in "The Dead of Winter," but I feel for her nonetheless.
> 
> Happy holidays. ♥


End file.
